I, Ms Chuck
by SketchyCord
Summary: Blair relapses back into her eating disorder when Chuck leaves her in episode 2.13 Dark, angsty, sad. First gossip girl fic. Rated T for safety. Enjoy.
1. Part 1

**Freddie Says Relapse**

[AN: My first Gossip Girl fic. Hope you enjoy. If enough people review, I will post the second half. Takes place after Chuck leave in Oh Brother Where Bart Thou]

I wake up and Chuck is gone. He's left me a note. "You deserve better," it says, and I can't imagine him saying those words to me. But he wrote them; for sure, I know his script. And he's signed it Chuck. "Don't come looking for me." But I told him…I told him I loved him and I would stand by him…

Though it is very early, I feel very hungry and exhausted. So much stress, and relief, and then more of the same. The newlyweds have already left to honeymoon.

"Great," I mutter out-loud, resentful. I know I shouldn't feel this anger, but I just do. I am upset. Mom says 'I love you' and she gets to marry her sweet husband. I say 'I love you' and Chuck runs away, comes back, and runs away again. Bastard. Why do I love him, anyway. But I am sick of this question, this question I keep pondering though I know the answer.

Eventually I stumble into the kitchen. I am still wearing the stunning dress I was at the wedding, the one I was wearing when Chuck was still here before he ran away.

"Away from me. He couldn't be with me…" and I began to cry, selfish tears, selfish and angry tears. The first time I cried the whole time. I wasn't crying for the right reasons, there were so many right reasons to cry right now, at a time like this, on the floor in my kitchen…

I could've been crying because Chuck was in so much pain, or out of joy because my mom married a wonderful man. And yet, I cried because I couldn't be with Chuck. I should've been glad he wasn't there, because he didn't want to be, but I wanted him to be, I needed him to be. For his benefit and by own. Blair and Chuck. Chuck and Blair. Selfish together, happy together.

I caught my own reflection in something. And in that moment I hated myself. Not a good enough daughter to my mother, not a good enough friend to Serena, and not a good enough…whatever I am, whoever I am, whatever I was supposedly to Chuck.

"You're really sweet with him."

I grabbed balls of the silky fabric in my hands, trying to prevent myself from doing the inevitable, the regrettable. But still, weak as I was from rejection, empty as I was without Chuck, I did it, and it felt right. Something Ugly Blair would do.

I stumbled to the refrigerator and I opened the door. There was so much food left from the wedding. And maybe if I ate enough, fast enough, I could make the emptiness go away.

I started with the cake, because it was nearest the front.

"I appreciate the concern."

I scooped it into my mouth in handfuls, remembering, trying to forget with no success…

"I want to be there for you."

Make it stop, please, God, I thought, but the memories and the feelings had spilled all over on the floor and I could not make it stop, make it stop…

"You are _not _my girlfriend," Chuck in my mind said, over and over and over again.

I could be, I really could, please let me try at least, I wanted to say. But I could not, so I continued to eat and eat.

It was good, the icing from the cake, all over the front of my dress, in my hands; it got in my hair. I ate so much I began to feel sick. I fell to the floor, body aching and sobbing, mind hysterical.

"I love you," the words I had said rang through my head, the look on his face, the way I felt, the way he did not…

I slipped and ran to the bathroom, stuck a finger down my throat, and vomited into the toilet easily. Acid burned by throat and I coughed. I rested my head in my hands.

"Well that's too bad."

"Chuck…" I murmured.

And then someone appeared in the doorway.


	2. Part 2

Part 2:

"Blair," said the voice, he said it, _he _was the voice. Chuck Bass, I loved him, so, _so _much that I couldn't breathe. Right now I can't. His velvety voice caressed my ears, and still I couldn't see, or think.

"I LOVE YOU," I cried, and I passed out on the floor in the bathroom. "Please, please say it back," and I sobbed, and the tears wracked my body, and I cried and cried and screamed, but he didn't say anything. Chuck Bass said not a word.

"Blair, let's get you to bed," he said calmly. I raised my eyes to meet his, and he looked away from me, took my hand. I tore it away from him. I pounded my fists against his chest, and not in that way that girls hit a man's chest when they're having a fit. I wanted to hurt him. Because as much as I felt for him, bad for him, sad for him, he was killing me.

"Chuck Bass. CHUCK BASS. You are murdering me," I tried, I tried it again. I was begging him, couldn't he see. He said nothing again. I wanted to die. Die. Die. He grabbed my wrists, but didn't seem to know where to go from there.

"What were you doing B," he said quietly after awhile. "Why are you in the bathroom?"

"Why are you here at all Chuck Bass. I don't want you here. You're killing me. You're breaking my heart. Stop. STOP," I tried to sound firm, but how could I really when the ground was falling out from under me each and every moment. I wanted to be adored, but all I felt was extreme ardor which got me nowhere. Because just like everyone else, he couldn't express that I was worth something. Something more than what I felt, which was nothing. If felt nothing, I was nothing.

But if I started to let myself feel, as I was now, gazing into his eyes, begging, pleading, for him to say it, to say really anything which showed I could make him feel like he made me feel, then maybe, just maybe, I would be saved. And I could stop purging my body of the emptiness.

He just stared at me. And I gave up. I couldn't hold on anymore. Instead of falling, I was spinning.

"Chuck. I was throwing up. Because I'm bulemic. I love you. And if you kill me, I can kill you right back."

"No. Blair. I don't want to. But. You have to stop doing this to yourself."

"Stop it. Stop it. I love you. That's all I do. All I ever do is love you. And throw up. Because I'm fighting. Don't make me fight. Love me. Love me. Love me."

And he said nothing, he still said not a word. I passed out against his chest, exhausted.


End file.
